Halfway through Rogue One, I started to futz with my hair (my habit for coping with boredom). After another 20 minutes I’d flipped the part of my mophead from right to left. This movie—a reckless jaunt through the Star Wars saga’s style with none of its substance—felt like an off-brand version of Disney World’s Star Tours ride. My nausea-prone stomach begged for mercy. […]